I wanted you to hit me, baby.
I wanted to fall to the floor and
                   think, numb, that this
                                     wasn't how
          it was meant to be.
I wanted to hear your skin
                   on mine,
         one more time
                                 before we die.
      I wanted to think that
you were a mistake, that
             I could have done so much
                                         better
                                              but you know
                                      and we both know
that's a **** lie.

      I had a list of platitudes
ready for the day that you
                     gave in, and I could
                               finally let go.
            Ours is a ferocious tenderness,
                        one that relies on
     your (brute) force
            and my twisted dreams
                                    of reddened skin
and bloodied knuckles.
        I wanted you to hit me, baby.
    See, I'd already forgiven you
but there's nothing between us
              save our lips
              save our bodies pressed
                         flush, one encompassing
                    the other,
              save the ice in your eyes
                                 and the typhoon in my
                        chest
                               that I think might be
                                              my heart.

              Save his soul, o my God.
        Bring him home and I
                            shall follow,
           with iron in my lungs (how do I
                     breathe
                                       alone?)
                and steel in my throat.

****, I wanted you to hit me.